Yes, there are prophetic references in Orwell's novel 1984 to the ubiquity of TV cameras. But his main purpose was to show us what it would be like to live under a technologically advanced communist dictatorship.

And, contrary to what some of Gordon Brown's critics might allege, things have hardly gone that far.

I'm not too bothered about being spied on. Speed cameras make me drive slower, which is a good thing. Take my fingerprints if you like. Scan my iris. And if you really think I could be a suicide bomber, by all means search my bag at the train station and I'll do my best to remain patient.

What spoils my day is not being watched, which I hardly notice, but being bombarded with TV images which can render me capable of noticing little else.

On a trip to London last week, I was in the WH Smith in King's Cross when I saw Scarlett Johansson in a steamy tryst above the cashier's head.

Okay, so it was a trailer for The Other Boleyn Girl. But why was I being shown it in a newsagent?

The man in front of me was so distracted by it that the cashier had to call to him three times. Note to WH Smith: You can show adverts for sexy period dramas in your stores, or you can expect your customers to have their wits about them. But you can't do both.

Pop videos in pubs and restaurants are worse because they distract us from each other in the very places where we're supposed to be socially engaged.

The other week I was trying to concentrate on what my father-in-law was saying about public sector pensions, when Britney Spears started pole dancing behind his head.

A bit later, when he was explaining how satellite navigation systems worked, Shania Twain was gyrating to Man, I Feel Like A Woman on the screen behind him, and began shedding items of clothing.

No offence to my father-in-law – he's a handsome bloke – but he's not Shania Twain doing a striptease, and I'm afraid my attention strayed.

It's not just men who suffer this torment. A bar near where we live is full of screens broadcasting models strutting the catwalk. Hardly what a woman wants to see after she's toiled in the bathroom in preparation for a night out, as my wife complained.

There's evidence to show that this stuff makes us depressed.
A study last year by Sussex University found that teenage girls who watch pop videos feel worse about their bodies.

The psychologist who led the project, Helga Dittmar, condemned the 'inescapable, almost omnipresent form of media' that broadcasts pop videos in bars, restaurants and shops.

Not that there's any escape out in the street, where city squares are increasingly dominated by screens.

Just as Orwell warned us about the proliferation of CCTV, science fiction films like Blade Runner and Minority Report warned us how eerily soulless our cities could look if we allowed advertising to take over everything.

Not only do we grant too much space to the screen, it also eats away at our time.

I'm with Mitch Altman, who invented the TV-B-Gone remote which allows you to mischievously switch off screens in public.

He said: "Why should we spend so much time on something we don't necessarily enjoy?"

Big Brother might well be watching us, but we should also worry about our own viewing.

awolstenholme
@ywng.co.uk